Drawn
by Grav
Summary: A soul eating demon stalks LA, and Angel is on the menu. Part Two in the Full of Grace Cycle
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: If I had any part to play in the actual running of the Jossverse, I would be selling him my stories. Luckily for you I don't, so you get to read them here.  
  
Spoilers: I'm still firmly AU third season (Connor who?), but I am assuming if you read this, you watch the show enough to have a decent grip on the characters  
  
Rating: PG-13, because it looks pretty.  
  
Summary: A desperate man upsets Hannah's balance, putting them all at risk of a resurgence of Angelus.  
  
A.N.: This story is the second in a series. I recommend reading "Receptacle" first so you know what is going on. Also, I know that an Ecthros demon was used in "I've Got You Under My Skin", but I'm using it here because, in Madeleine L'engle's "A Swiftly Tilting Planet", the Ecthroi are what corrupt otherwise innocent humans.  
  
* * * * *  
  
~Drawn~  
  
He would give his soul to get rid of his brother. Hadami was the elder, the favourite. He had everything, and when everything is given to the elder, what then is left for the younger? The injustice of it all burned inside him and he seethed with it.  
  
Then of course, there was the matter of Sarai. Who in her right mind would choose the younger brother? The one without inheritance. The one who hadn't been sent to the expensive American university. The one who was just as capable, but whom no one noticed.  
  
Selling one's soul was dangerous and difficult to arrange, but it was not impossible. You needed Some Thing to make a deal with, preferably something powerful, yet not too nasty. He had met a charming Ecthros demon a few weeks ago who had been open for negotiation. Now, all he needed was a catalyst, something to draw his soul out of him.  
  
The spell he was about to work should help him find that something. His head turned sharply, following the sound of a breaking twig. He really did not want to be interrupted. Some things about this ritual would be a challenge to explain. His eyes scanned the surrounding foliage, and he silently cursed his ancestral jungle home. He didn't see anything.  
  
He lit the last candle, and poured the herbs into a bowl. Taking a knife, he slit his hand and drained a few drops of blood into there. Using a pestle, he turned the mixture into a nasty-looking, worse-smelling paste. Holding the bowl in both hands, he began to chant in an ancient, dark tongue.  
  
The candles about him flared, and a breeze swept through the clearing. The blood and herbs began to glow, and the glow swelled out to encompass first the bowl, then him, and eventually filled the circle of candles. The light grew brighter and brighter, until the candles spontaneously extinguished themselves and the jungle plunged again into darkness.  
  
His eyes flew open. He knew where to look.  
  
{Knife sliding across hand. Flare of light. Eyes flying open. LA skyline.}  
  
"There's just too much," Lorne said helplessly. "You're a big, bright, beautiful blur, and when I try and focus on it, I tend to lose consciousness."  
  
"There's got to be something," said Fred. "Some potion or a spell."  
  
"I don't want to give Hannah too many compounds," Wesley said. "The drug we've concocted is complex and highly reactive."  
  
"We need to know, Wesley," Hannah insisted. "I need to know."  
  
"I've asked Giles." Wes admitted. "He was very intrigued, and he's working on a few ideas."  
  
"Will he bring The Council into it?" Angel asked.  
  
"Only as a last resort, and he'll warn me first," Wesley said wryly. "We agreed that they might be a little too intrigued."  
  
Hannah shifted uncomfortably. Lorne put a hand on her shoulder.  
  
"Wesley?" Cordelia called from the office. "Phone."  
  
{Sun setting over the ocean. Lorne's hand on Hannah's shoulder. Wesley holding incense.}  
  
"Deep, even breaths," instructed Wesley in a slow, calm voice. "Peel back the layers as you find them, seeing through them. Dig as deeply as you can, until you find the centre."  
  
Hannah sat cross-legged in the approximate centre of Wesley's darkened office, eyes closed, following his instructions. Wesley circled her slowly, anti-clockwise, holding a piece of incense. He was careful not to breathe too deeply and inhale the smoke; they only needed one trance tonight. Hannah slumped forward slightly, indicating that she had found the centre.  
  
It hadn't been easy. She'd had a thousand other lives to sort through before finding the centre of her own. Many had been just similar enough to hers that she was tricked into concentrating on them. It had taken almost a week's worth of trying, but this time, she was pretty sure that the soul she was examining was actually hers.  
  
"Concentrate on how it works." Wesley intoned. "Find out how they interact, where they come from. Discover how you can control it."  
  
Insight began to come to her in flashes. She absently felt sorry for Buddhist monks who spent their entire lives trying to achieve something that had taken her a week's worth of practice and a few sacred chants. She squashed that thought, restoring her mind to clarity as the information continued to come to her.  
  
It was getting to be too much for her to handle, he could see it. Her face tightened as she clenched her teeth, trying to hold on. Her breath came faster, but she battled to maintain control. She began to shake, and Wesley decided enough was enough.  
  
"Hannah!" he said sharply to snap her out of it.  
  
Her eyes flew open. She knew what it meant.  
  
{Wesley on the phone with Giles. Hannah slumping forward. LA traffic.}  
  
"So Giles' idea worked then," Angel said.  
  
"Yes, finally," said Hannah. "But most of the lag was my fault. I've never been much for concentration. Consciously anyway."  
  
"Hey," said Gunn rapping her lightly on the head with his knuckles. "It's not like you're the only one in there."  
  
"What can you tell us?" Wesley asked. "I mean, can you put it into words?"  
  
"I have a finite capacity," offered Hannah. "I can only have so many souls inside me, and the number is constant. I must have gotten them all during the accident, and nothing changed in the five years afterwards."  
  
"What does that mean, exactly?" Cordelia asked.  
  
"Newton, really," Hannah explained. "That's what worries me. It's action and reaction. If someone takes a soul, I'll latch on to the closest, least attached one."  
  
"Which would be me," Angel said.  
  
"But we could take it back, couldn't we?" Cordelia asked.  
  
"You'd get a soul, I can't guarantee it would be his."  
  
"But it would be a soul," Fred said. "A soul's a soul, right?"  
  
"Just because something has a soul doesn't make it good. Hitler kept his right to the end, and he had dozens of offers for it."  
  
"How do you know that?" asked Wesley.  
  
"I, uh, do," Hannah stammered  
  
"Are you saying that evil is inherent, soul or no?" Angel asked, looking slightly ill.  
  
"No," Hannah reassured him. "All things without souls are evil, not all things with souls are good."  
  
"Even with souls, the Wolfram and Hart people are pretty damned," Cordelia pointed out. "And human Darla was no saint either."  
  
"What if someone tries to give you a soul?" Gunn asked.  
  
"I either send one out, or explode."  
  
"Let's not experiment with that," Lorne suggested.  
  
"What happens if you lose your balance?" Fred asked quietly.  
  
Hannah bit her lip and looked and Wesley.  
  
"We don't know," Wes said. "And I really don't think we want to find out.  
  
* * * * *  
  
A.N. Perhaps this is a good time to apologize for using the Angelus schtick. Really though, if you aren't writing about sex or the angsty lack thereof, what else are you going to do for tension? 


	2. Chapter Two

A.N. Major props to EO, who is a wonderful beta for many reasons, not the least of which is her ability to identify a fedora on the barest of descriptions.  
  
* * * * *  
  
He watched her for many days before moving on to the final stages of his plan. One thing his father had seen fit to teach him was the art of the hunt, and he had learned well. He had stalked her now for almost two weeks, and neither she nor her companions had noticed.  
  
He knew her, and by extension the others quite well now. They kept odd hours, but for the most part tried to sleep at night. They drank vast amounts of coffee, except for one who drank blood, and another who drank tea. She rarely left the hotel at all, unlike some of them, who left at night when the sun had gone and returned in the wee hours of the morning exhibiting all the signs of a successful hunt.  
  
He heard her sing sometimes, her voice soaring in joy. Another voice would accompany her at times, and the two would blend seamlessly, creating perfect harmonies. A pity he was tone deaf, and could only hear the words. Still, they only sang when the others were out, and provided a clue for him as to when they were alone together.  
  
What he needed was for her to be completely alone, but that had yet to happen. He knew he could subdue the green-skinned demon in fairly short order, but this was a holy time for him, and he wanted to keep the violence to a minimum.  
  
And then, of course, there was the fact that the hunt was the fun part. After the kill, metaphorically speaking, there would be nothing to do but go home and claim his inheritance, and the Ecthros had assured him there would be plenty of time for that.  
  
It was getting dark now, blackness falling on the thirteenth night of his vigil. Almost as soon as the sun had gone, the broody-looking blood drinker, the brown-haired woman and dark, bespectacled man had left, all visibly armed. Shortly afterwards, the black man and the thin girl had left in the opposite direction, obviously on the way to a significantly less violent activity.  
  
Above, the stars spun.  
  
Finally, around midnight, a figure in a suit, sunglasses, and a fedora left the hotel. She came to the door to see the demon off, and though he couldn't hear the words that passed between them, their body language spoke loudly of lack of confidence on his part, and reassurance on hers. If only they knew. The demon squeezed her hand, and stepped off the stairs and down the street out of the lamplight. She disappeared back inside.  
  
Across the street, he smiled.  
  
* * * * *  
  
It had taken her almost half an hour to convince Lorne that she would be all right by herself. He had people to see and auras to read, and she didn't really enjoy the demon bars that his clients frequented. That, and a lot of them were terrible singers, and she hated it when things sang off- key. She couldn't fight with Angel, Wes and Cordy, and she was damned if she was going to be third wheel for Gunn and Fred. It would only be a little while.  
  
She latched the front door shut, and crossed the lobby to the back door to repeat the process. She flicked off the main light, and turned on the small lamp on the old check-in counter. The shadows cast about the lobby took on a menacing appearance, but she'd seen much worse, and it didn't really bother her.  
  
What did bother her was when of them moved.  
  
She only just caught the movement out of the corner of her eye, and she spun to follow it. There was nothing there. She spun around again, sensing a presence.  
  
"Lorne?" she called out, knowing that it wasn't him, but hoping for the best. She inched towards the weapons cabinet.  
  
She heard a whispering sound, and she tried to find the source, but it kept moving. The sound grew louder, and she identified it as chanting, but she couldn't understand the language. Hannah gave up on the weapons cabinet and made a break for the door, but she'd only gone a few steps when she stopped, unable to move.  
  
She felt a great weight on her head, and the pressure of it forced her to her knees. She cried out in pain and alarm. Finally, the speaker stepped into her field of vision. He was tall and hugely muscled, and his voice carried the over tones of an unspeakable evil as he chanted. In vain, Hannah tried to block her hears with her hands.  
  
She thought she might explode. It was like the Christmas dinners she remembered from when she was little, the ones where she used to eat and eat and just when she felt that another teaspoon of potatoes would kill her, her mother would bring out dessert. Except this couldn't be cured by lying down for an hour or throwing up. She didn't know how to release the pressure that was building inside her, and it was causing her pain.  
  
The chanter, half forgotten in her misery, reached the climax of his incantation, and something bright white came out of him. He screamed, and the light bore down on the still motionless Hannah. She tried hopelessly to get out of the way, but there was no escape. The light enveloped her, and the pressure grew so much that she wondered if she had any bones or skin left at all.  
  
And then the world exploded.  
  
{Hannah locking the door. Wesley and Angel fight a vampire in the street. Hannah enveloped in light.}  
  
Wesley flew through the air and landed at Angel's feet. The vampire Wes had been fighting advanced on them. Cordelia fumbled with a crossbow bolt. Angel pulled Wesley to his feet and handed him another stake.  
  
The vampire stopped its advance and grabbed its chest. It fell to the ground screaming.  
  
"Uh, did you do that?" Cordelia asked.  
  
"No," said Angel and Wesley together.  
  
The vampire began to cry, its face reverting back to human form.  
  
"So many, so much blood. It tasted so good and I needed it, but it was wrong, wrong, wrong," it moaned.  
  
"Now I'm really confused." Cordelia admitted.  
  
"It has a soul," Angel said in an awed voice.  
  
"How. . ." Wesley began, then his eyes flashed in alarm. "Hannah!"  
  
"Let's go," Angel said flatly.  
  
"No," Wesley said quickly. "You can't, Angel. You can't go anywhere near her."  
  
"I've got to do something."  
  
"There's liable to be quite a bit of chaos tonight," Wesley pointed out. "Why don't you and Cordelia stay out and patrol? This is going to require magick, not killing things. Well, you'll likely have to kill something eventually, but until then, the streets are probably the best for you."  
  
Angel set his jaw, clearly unhappy with the situation and just as clearly unable to change the situation.  
  
"Go," he said. Then, he turned and left with Cordelia.  
  
Wesley cast one last look around the alleyway, and saw the vampire, which was still crying on the ground. He was overwhelmed with pity, but he knew he had to walk away. He dropped a stake on the ground on his way. Wesley didn't look back.  
  
{Wesley is thrown again a wall. Cordelia sights down a crossbow. A stake bounces on the ground.}  
  
Fred was quite tempted to just let her cell phone ring. It was only her sense of duty that had led her to bring it anyway. Apocalypses don't usually give advance warnings, and the fast reaction time of Angel Investigations required that she use a phone. She just wished it hadn't chosen tonight to ring.  
  
"You gonna get that?" Gunn drawled.  
  
"Probably should." She looked at the display. "It's Wesley."  
  
Gunn picked up a few more French fries and ate them while he listed to Fred's half of the conversation.  
  
"Hi Wes. . .What?. . .Oh God. Yeah, yes we'll be right there." Fred hung up and waved for the cheque.  
  
"Problem?"  
  
"You could say that."  
  
{Streets of LA, filled with cars. Lorne walking away from the Hyperion.}  
  
She felt a change in the air. There was a movement in the atmosphere like nothing she had ever felt before, and it awakened an old and never sated hunger in her. Souls. She could taste them on the air and she breathed deeply of their essence. She needed to track this to its source and feed. It would fill her for centuries, or even longer, if she found a way to keep the source alive.  
  
The demon called Nihura melted into darkness, and set off on a hunt of her own.  
  
{Various shots of Fred and Gun driving back to the Hyperion. Angel and Cordelia fighting another vampire}  
  
That hadn't worked out quite the way he'd expected. The girl was only supposed to take the soul out of him, not put it in herself. The contract was painfully clear on what happened to him if he couldn't deliver the goods to the Ecthros demon. Options. That's what he needed. Lots of them, and fast. Frustrated, he kicked Hannah in the chest, and the way she reflexively coiled around her middle made him feel momentarily better.  
  
Running for it was sounding terribly appealing just now. After all, it wasn't like the Ecthros had given him anything yet-- they had just opened negotiations. Technically, he didn't owe the demon anything; he just wouldn't get his collateral back. If he made a break for it now, he could get out and forget that any of this had ever happened. Not having a soul is great for memory loss.  
  
Decision made, he kicked Hannah one last time, straightened his jacket, and headed for the door. Maybe this would work out all right after all. He opened the door and gasped.  
  
Then again, maybe not.  
  
{A knife twisting in the stomach. Cutting of the skin and hair. A horrible scream.}  
  
Gunn and Wesley had carried the horribly mutilated body out of the doorway of the Hyperion and deposited it in a dumpster down the block. Fred had helped the conscious, yet woozy and bruised Hannah on to one of the couches, and got her some tea. Hannah was shaking severely, and she jerked as though she were being pulled and pushed from all sides. Fred watched her carefully, ready to save the cup at a moment's notice. Gunn and Wes came back inside and went to wash their hands.  
  
"Did you know him?" Wesley asked gently, taking his cup of tea and pouring something into it. "Hannah? Can you talk about it?"  
  
Hannah jerked abruptly and Fred took the mug away.  
  
"Never seen him. Felt him coming though. Too late. Too late." Hannah raved. "He'd been watching, watching me and we never knew."  
  
"What did he do, Hannah? Do you remember?" Wesley's tone was calm, but it wasn't helping much.  
  
"He tried to give it to me, but there wasn't enough room." She was rocking back and forth now, and Gunn held her on the couch. "Not enough room and now they are gone. All burst out and lost and trying to find homes. She'll eat them if they don't come back."  
  
"The souls?" Gunn asked.  
  
"Well, she did say explosion." Wesley pointed out. "Maybe she meant a spiritual explosion, not a physical one."  
  
"I need them back." Hannah began to cry. "I'm so empty. I need them back."  
  
"Gunn, take her upstairs and give her this." Wesley said, indicating his mug. "Make sure she drinks this, then put her to bed and come back downstairs."  
  
Gunn nodded and picked Hannah up. She struggled slightly, but then gave up and collapsed against him. Gunn shifted the mug and girl into different positions, and then headed for the staircase. He pushed Hannah's door open, they still hadn't got the latch fixed, and laid her on the bed. He held her up and forced Wes' drink down her throat, then covered her with a blanket. She had stopped moving before he turned the light off.  
  
"I don't like this talk of eating," Fred was saying as Gunn came back into the lobby.  
  
"Nor do I," Wesley agreed. "We'll look for this soul eater. Hannah called it a 'she'-- that should help narrow it down. Gunn, I need you to find Lorne. There's no sign of a struggle, maybe he just stepped out. . ."  
  
"And I just stepped back in again," came a voice from the door. "Problem?"  
  
The green demon found himself under the scrutiny of three pairs of eyes. He looked puzzled, and then remembered that there should be four. His face fell.  
  
"Hannah," he breathed, and started for the stairs only to find his way blocked by Gunn. "Now's really not the time, sweetheart."  
  
"Lorne," Wesley's tone brought him up short. "Where have you been?"  
  
"I, uh, I've," Lorne stuttered. He collapsed on to a sofa and said dully. "She said she'd be fine. I should never have left her."  
  
"Hey man, maybe it's better that you did," Gunn said reassuringly. "You didn't see the guy we put in the dumpster."  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"I was out on patrol with Angel and Cordy, and the vampire we were fighting was ensouled right in front of us. It wasn't pretty," Wesley said, shuddering at the memory. "I left them on patrol, got Fred and Gunn and came back here. Hannah was raving about someone, presumably the owner of the body we got rid of, and now she's upstairs sleeping because I drugged her."  
  
"Can I see her?" Lorne sounded desperate. Wesley's face softened.  
  
"I don't see why not. She's unconscious, but. . ." Wes was interrupted by a crash from upstairs.  
  
They instantly snapped to attention, seizing a variety of weapons from the cabinet as they flew up the stairs. Gunn reached Hannah's door first, and shoved it open. He stopped in surprise, and was bowled over by the others as they pushed into the room.  
  
A shell of light surrounded Hannah's bed, warding off the raging demon that was hammering against it with her fists. The demon howled in frustration, and turned to face Wesley and the others. Fred fired a crossbow bolt at it, and the demon brushed it aside in midair. The demon drew herself to full height and howled again. With one last crash against the ward, she flung herself out the window, and disappeared into the night.  
  
"Did you set up a ward, English?" Gunn asked in an awed tone.  
  
"No," said Wesley, sounding preoccupied. "No, I didn't."  
  
"Well somebody did, and it was pretty darn strong." Lorne said, cautiously reaching out a hand to touch the barrier. As soon as his fingers brushed it, it dissipated, and he flew to Hannah's side.  
  
"Maybe Hannah did it reflexively," Fred suggested.  
  
"It's quite possible." Wesley allowed. "I think I know what that was. Gunn, you and Lorne stay up here, just in case. . ."  
  
The two nodded, and Wesley tossed the anagogic demon his axe.  
  
"Fred, we've got work to do."  
  
* * * * *  
  
A.N. Perhaps this speaks of my rural roots, but every time someone describes Angel as 'broody' I laugh. Broody is what a horse or cow gets when she's pregnant, so the image of a 'broody' Angel is always very humourous for me. 


	3. Chapter Three

A.N. My spell checker accepts Angelus. But not Cordelia. The mind boggles.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Chaos, he reflected, probably wasn't a strong enough word. Angelus had made chaos. Chaos was what happened when normal, everyday people were exposed to the world of the supernatural, and then they panicked. Things got burnt, people got killed, and then the sun came up, and the world resumed to some semblance of normalcy.  
  
This night had been anything but normal.  
  
After Wesley had sent them off, Angel and Cordelia had continued to patrol, being sure to give the Hyperion a wide berth. They had seen some interesting things. It wasn't every night that the underworld panicked. The sudden onslaught of souls was bringing out some of the darkest demons, and reducing hordes of vampires to quivering balls of fear, lest they be next.  
  
Chaos didn't come close.  
  
Cordelia's cell phone rang, and she answered it. Angel heard half the conversation, and then took the phone when she held it out to him.  
  
"Wesley," she informed him.  
  
"Yes?" Angel said into the phone.  
  
"Hannah was attacked," Wes' voice informed him. "It was a demon named Nihura. She's one of a kind, a soul sucker."  
  
"Charming. What happened?"  
  
"Hannah managed to drive her off somehow. It was probably a reflex."  
  
"All right, what now? The sun'll be up soon."  
  
"There's a warehouse in Gunn's old neighbourhood. He says you know it."  
  
"I remember it, yeah."  
  
"Right. Go there. Gunn and Lorne will meet you. They're bringing Hannah."  
  
"What?!" Angel exclaimed.  
  
"We need to lure Nihura to you. If what happened here is any indication, Hannah should lead her right to you. According to my research, you're the only one who can kill it; 'Neither the living nor the dead shall vanquish her'. It isn't the best grammar, but I'm a bit pressed for time."  
  
"But won't Hannah, well, you know. . ."  
  
"It's a risk," Wesley admitted. "Fred is going to give her something that should still attract the demon, but not be to tempting to you. We're working on the dosage."  
  
"Tell Gunn and Lorne to bring crossbows."  
  
"They know," Wes said quietly.  
  
"Let's do this then." Angel turned off the phone and handed it back to the expectant Cordelia.  
  
"Well, what's the big plan?"  
  
Angel handed her the extra crossbow bolts he was carrying in his pocket and began to give her the outline as the walked.  
  
{Nihura howls. A vampire dusts himself. Angel flips a cell phone closed.}  
  
"I don't like it Wes," Fred said, looking up from the microscope.  
  
"I don't much either," Wesley put down the book he was reading, and pulled off his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. "But it's either drugs or madness, and Angel needs to get close enough to kill the demon. We have to restore equilibrium."  
  
"But what about after the demon's dead?"  
  
"That will replace the souls. She'll still be mad, and not everyone can cure their own madness with four walls and a magic marker."  
  
"I had good friends," Fred smiled. "That helped."  
  
"And it will help Hannah," Wesley said. "And maybe some day, with practice, the meditations that Giles found will help too. Until then, she's going to need the drug, which means she's going to need you."  
  
"You should have gone into motivational speaking Wesley."  
  
Wesley shrugged and handed Fred another slide. She looked over her notes, got an eye dropper and perused the various chemicals in front of her. Wesley went back to his book.  
  
"It's addictive, Wes," Fred said quietly. "There's no getting around it."  
  
"I know," He didn't look up.  
  
{LA skyline at dawn. Zoom in on a warehouse.}  
  
Angel did one last sweep of the warehouse floor. He knew where all the booby traps were, and how to set them off without immolating himself in the process. He had posted Cordelia on the catwalk, and given her both of the crossbows. Gunn was bringing him an axe.  
  
A door opened, and Gunn called out to indicate that he wasn't the demon. He held the door for Lorne, who had insisted on carrying Hannah in from the truck. The drug had rendered her unconscious, and her awakening would be Angel's signal that he was running out of time.  
  
Gunn handed Angel the axe, keeping the crossbow for himself. Lorne sat down in the approximate middle of the warehouse floor, unarmed, with Hannah in his lap. He looked at Angel and set his jaw in a clear refusal to move. Angel nodded and directed Gunn to the catwalk opposite Cordelia. On the floor, Angel took the axe in both hands and retreated to the corner to wait.  
  
He didn't have to wait long.  
  
Nihura crashed through a window on the north side of the warehouse. Angel thanked his lucky stars that the demon had followed exactly the trail Wesley hoped it would. If she had come in through a window that faced southeast, there might have been problems. The demon looked quickly around the warehouse and spotted Lorne and Hannah. Roaring in victory, she made a beeline for them. Angel followed, trying not to think about what the demon might do to his friends, but then stopped when Nihura ran into Hannah's ward, and ceased moving forward.  
  
Taking advantage of her motionless and turned back, Angel leapt at her, hacking with the axe. It bit deeply into her body and she screamed. Angel felt a pull, and he unconsciously vamped out. He was too close to Hannah. Retrieving the axe, he ran behind some boxes and tried to control himself.  
  
Nihura roared again, this time in rage and pain, and Angel could sense the hunger in her call. She needed a soul, she needed to feed, but the ward wouldn't let her at her target. But she could smell another close at hand. She knew that the creature's grip on its soul was tenuous and fading fast. Snarling, Nihura began to stalk Angel through the warehouse.  
  
Hannah stirred in Lorne's arms, moaning unintelligibly. He tightened his hold. "It's wearing off, Angelcakes," he warned.  
  
Angel led Nihura through the gauntlet of traps that Gunn's crew had spent so much time building. He tripped wires, pulled levers, and cut fasteners, bombarding the demon behind him with stakes, old mattresses and heavy objects designed to confuse, confound and enrage while he dodged out of the way, unharmed. Her pace was slowing, but her hunger, her need was still strong. Angel leapt atop an old conveyor belt, making his head level with hers.  
  
He vamped out again, unable to control the demon inside him any longer. Nihura's terrible face gloated at his incipient loss, and she opened her mouth to take his soul. Angel set his teeth, his elongated incisors accidentally piercing his lip, and made good of one last swing.  
  
The air whistled, and then there was a sickening thud as the demon's head went flying and her body slumped to the ground. Angel fell to his knees, his head in his hands, unable even to get off of the belt.  
  
"I'm still me!" he shouted to the catwalks. "I'm still Angel!"  
  
Hannah was thrashing now, twitching and jerking. Nihura's decapitated body suddenly exploded, emitting thousands of rays of light, which immediately homed in on Hannah. They surrounded her, knocking Lorne away, and infused her body with light. She screamed once, as they drew her to her feet, and then she collapsed back on the concrete, moaning.  
  
"We have to get her to Wesley," Lorne said, somewhat breathlessly.  
  
"I know," said Angel, turning to Gunn who had climbed down. "Take them. Cordy and I will walk back through the sewer."  
  
"We're gone."  
  
Angel turned to Cordelia, who still had her crossbow trained on him. He rolled his eyes.  
  
"Hey, I've seen Angelus," she said defensively. "Can't blame a girl for being cautious."  
  
"No, I guess I can't."  
  
{Angel hacking at Nihura. Lorne staring down the demon. Nihura's head flying. Hannah collapsing to the floor.}  
  
Gunn was seriously considering tying Lorne to a chair. Ever since they had got Hannah back to the hotel and handed her over to Wesley, Lorne had been pacing up and down the hallway. The demon's skin colour, added to the bright clothes he wore and the speed at which he moved was giving Gunn a headache.  
  
"Man, she'll be fine." Gunn had lost track of how many times he'd said that. "English and Fred can handle it."  
  
There was a flash of light from under the door and Lorne made a move for it.  
  
"No way, Lorne," Gunn said, catching him and pulling him back. "We don't want to mess around. Angel and Cordy should be back soon. Why don't we go downstairs and. . ."  
  
"No!" snapped Lorne. "I am not leaving her again."  
  
Gunn's eyes widened as he understood.  
  
"It wasn't your fault, Lorne."  
  
The demon looked at him through pain-filled eyes, but his answer was cut off by the opening of the door. Lorne spun to face it, and Fred and Wesley barely had enough time to get out of his way.  
  
"Are you guys up there?" Cordelia called up the corridor from the lobby.  
  
"We'll be right down," Wes called back, still in the door frame. He began to shepherd Fred and Gunn down the hall, closing the door to Hannah's room as he left.  
  
{Light flashing beneath a door. Red rimmed eyes. Wesley closing the door.}  
  
He'd had every intention of dashing into the room, sweeping her up in his arms and never letting go. But something stopped him in his tracks half- way across the floor. He tried to tell himself that it was because she was still recovering, but he knew in his heart of hearts that it was because of his guilt. So, he hesitated.  
  
Hannah watched Wesley pull the door shut without looking over his shoulder, and turned to face Lorne.  
  
"I wasn't really unconscious, you know," she said, almost out of the blue. "I couldn't do anything, of course, but I knew more or less exactly what was going on."  
  
He came a few steps closer and sat on the end of the bed.  
  
"That was brave of you, to stay on the floor with me. And really stupid. You could at least have taken a knife. But it ended well."  
  
He realized, absently, that he was holding his breath.  
  
"Thank you. It made me feel. . .safe."  
  
"It was the least I could do after abandoning you earlier," he pointed out.  
  
"Lorne, I saw what happened to the idiot that started this whole chain of events. I'm glad you weren't here."  
  
"I just. . .I mean. . .I can't bear the thought of something happening to you, of someone taking you away from. . ." he cut himself off and looked up at her. "I love you."  
  
She stared at him.  
  
"But I was afraid it was for the wrong reasons," he babbled on. "I mean, when you sing, I see the most beautiful thing ever, but I wasn't sure that it was you. And then I realized that I can see it even when you aren't singing -- I just had to learn where to look, and I, I'm not even sure what 'it' is."  
  
"I think that's the way it usually works." Hannah said quietly, her smile returning. She sat up and wobbled slightly. He instinctively reached out to steady her.  
  
"Are you supposed to sit up?"  
  
"Yes," came the answer. One didn't have to be anagogic to realize that wasn't quite the truth.  
  
He shifted under her scrutiny, unable to think for the life of him what she wanted, and knowing somehow that he couldn't cheat by asking her to sing. Hannah sighed in exasperation.  
  
"Are you planning on sitting there all day, or are you going to kiss me?"  
  
His eyes snapped up to find her smiling sweetly at him, her face about a foot away from his. That suddenly seemed an intolerably large distance. He stretched out a hand and tucked a few errant strands of hair behind her ear.  
  
She didn't have to ask him twice.  
  
* * * * *  
  
A.N. Major props to EO because she was my first L/H 'shipper, and because she said it was alright to do it. I really, truly love the word anagogic. Unfortunately, it isn't very applicable to my everyday life. 


	4. Epilogue

A.N. Whew! I had this all written before Lineage aired, so the similarities in dialogue are 100% coincidence. I really can't say enough nice things about EO. Her emails make my day.  
  
* * * * *  
  
It had become a custom for her to watch the sunset from the roof of the Hyperion. After eight years of rarely leaving her room, Hannah never tired of the colours, of the wind, and of the feeling of peace at the end of the day. Even now, knowing what she did about the creatures of the night, she refused to let go of her own private magick. Those moments on the roof had become her time to revel in the silence of being alone in her mind. She liked being with people, but every day, she took some time to herself before returning downstairs to real life.  
  
So it was that Wesley felt like an interloper as he watched from the door behind her. As the last few rays of light shot over the horizon, he leaned against the door post, appreciating the beauty of the skyscape in front of him.  
  
"Come outside, Wesley." He started. She didn't turn. "The view is better from the edge."  
  
He moved forward to join her and they watched in silence as the sun bid farewell to another day. When it was gone, Hannah drew a deep breath, and turned to face him.  
  
"What is it Wes?" she asked.  
  
"The drug," he said hesitantly. "It's addictive."  
  
"I know," she said quietly. "I can feel them eating it up and enjoying every bite."  
  
"The longer you take it, the harder it will be to stop. Not only will you have withdrawal, you'll have several thousand people inside you withdrawing at the same time."  
  
"I can't stop, Wesley. I can't do it. Not again."  
  
"We'll keep working on it," Wesley said. He hesitated again. "When we have time."  
  
"I understand," She nodded. "You can't spend all your time helping one person."  
  
"We'll find a way," Wesley said. "And until we do. . ."  
  
He held out a needle. Hannah looked at it, then rolled up her sleeve and held her arm out to him.  
  
"Would you, please?" There was a vulnerability in her voice that he hadn't heard before. "I can't."  
  
He took her arm, and as gently as he could, injected her. She shuddered, and looked away from him. When she looked back, he saw the same Hannah that the rest of the world saw most of the time.  
  
"Let's go down," she said matter-of-factly. "It's getting chilly up here."  
  
{A needle full of a silverish liquid pierces an arm, and then empties into it.}  
  
Wesley came back into the lobby, only to find Lorne and Angel lifting Cordelia off the floor. Fred came in from the office with a glass of water and some pain killers, and held Cordelia up so the seer could take them.  
  
"Nest of Othac demons in an abandoned garage about five blocks from here," Angel said to Wesley, throwing him an sword and crossbow. "You and I will go."  
  
Gunn started to protest, but Angel held up a hand. "Executive decision. Just in case something goes down while we're gone. Put Cordy to bed here."  
  
Gunn nodded and moved to help Fred get Cordelia to her feet.  
  
"We may as well walk, Angel," Wesley suggested. "It's not far and we might be able to do some reconnaissance of their territory before we get there that we couldn't do in the car."  
  
Angel nodded, and the two headed out into the Los Angeles night.  
  
{Hotel hallway, Lorne outside of Hannah's room.}  
  
Lorne had stayed in the lobby for a few minutes, until the sounds of Fred, Gunn and Cordelia had faded out down the hallway. He stood slowly, trying to process his thoughts into some semblance of order. He walked slowly to the stairs.  
  
He'd kissed her. And he'd liked it. And he wanted to do it again. And he had no idea what to do next. He found himself outside her door, unable even to knock.  
  
"Who will buy my sweet red roses,  
  
Who bloom for a penny?"  
  
He smiled. She had liked it too. He opened the door and stepped into her room. He knew what she wanted, and the knowledge gave him the confidence to face her.  
  
He took her in his arms and kissed her; felt her melt against him. He deepened the kiss, pouring into it all the passion he had and received the same back from her. She broke the kiss to breathe, gasping as his mouth trailed down her neck.  
  
"I thought I was going to lose you," he said between kisses.  
  
"You won't." It was an empty reassurance, and she knew it. "You won't."  
  
Hannah forced those thoughts out of her head as Lorne pushed her back on to the bed. He followed her, his hands moving over her, and thinking at all stopped being an issue.  
  
{Cordelia's room.}  
  
Fred finished setting the alarm to the time Cordelia wanted, bid the other woman goodnight, and joined Gunn in the hallway. She could tell just by looking at him that they were about to have a conversation she wouldn't like. He followed her back to her room, and entered without asking for or receiving an invitation. She stepped into the bathroom to change, hoping he would take the hint, but he was still there when she came out and crawled into her bed.  
  
"What is it Gunn?" she asked, somewhat sharply.  
  
"It's Wesley," Gunn admitted. "I'm worried about some of the stuff he's done lately."  
  
"What? Coming up with a drug to save a girl from insanity?" Fred demanded. Her eyes narrowed. "Or is it just that such activities require him to spend a lot of time with me?"  
  
"It's not just that," Gunn insisted. He sat down on the bed, and sat back against the headboard. "He risked Hannah's life tonight. When she was unconscious. And that's not even taking into account what might have happened in Angelus. . ."  
  
"But he didn't. Wesley does what needs to be done. He always does. That doesn't mean he doesn't care."  
  
"I've seen him order people to their deaths, Fred," Gunn shuddered at the memory. "I don't want to see what will happen if you, if we break his heart."  
  
She gaped at him, shaking her head in disbelief.  
  
"Get out," she said flatly. She rolled over, refusing even to look at him. "Get out of my room."  
  
"Fine." He snapped and sat up.  
  
{The Hyperion from the outside, traffic goes past at normal speed.}  
  
A purple orb appeared out of nowhere and hovered above the old hotel. It hung motionless for a few moments, and then it exploded, dousing the hotel in a purplish haze.  
  
{Fred's room}  
  
Gunn never got farther than sitting up before he collapsed back against the headboard, fast asleep. Beside him, under the covers and still facing the wall, Fred slept too.  
  
{Cordelia's room}  
  
Her headache was gone already. She'd have to remember these pain-killers for the next time TPTB paid a visit. She really hated these beds, but somehow, she was falling asleep already. She would definitely remember these pills.  
  
{Hannah's room}  
  
Hannah slept quietly, her head nestled into his chest. Lorne lightly ran his fingers through her hair. He yawned hugely, and his red rimmed eyes slowly closed.  
  
{Gunn flops back against the headboard. Angel and Wesley take on a horde of demons. Cordelia collapses from a vision. Fred walks away from Gunn. Lorne and Hannah sleep.}  
  
* * * * *  
  
A.N. "Who Will Buy?" is still from Oliver. You're getting Part III, did you notice? 


End file.
